Looking Forward

Twelve years ago today my life was permanently altered, shaken, and sifted. My heart was wrenched wider, when I was so afraid it was already at maximum capacity. My mind has been blown countless times since then…with exhaustion, with wonder, with gratitude, with laughter, and with understanding.

Twelve years ago today my daughters were born.

This morning, like every 20th of November since 2001, I get up very early. I have a cup of coffee and sit in the quiet, thanking God for the blessing of my brood. Then I start setting the scene. This means balloons, baby books, flowers, my grandmother’s cinnamon bread, cards, treats, and numbers cut out of construction paper laid out in a trail from the bedroom to the kitchen. This year was a trail of 12’s. I am not sure how that tradition started or why it seems to matter so much, but it must, because Grace told me this week that even when she’s super old, like 42 (gee, thanks), she wants me to have a key to her house so I can put out the paper trail. Maybe it’s our official welcome to a new year? Or maybe it’s a dorky sign that someone loves you enough to stay up until the wee hours cutting paper? In any event, I know it means that you are worthy of great celebration. Because this year when I turned really old, there was a trail of paper 42’s leading from my bedroom to the hallway, where a giant decorated moving box wiggled and giggled conspicuously.

Even better (well, mostly) than George Clooney popping out of cake – my darling girls popped out of the box screaming and singing happy birthday. Moments like that are so savory sweet, when your own thoughtfulness made enough of an impact that it comes back to pleasantly haunt you. I believe children learn kindness through kind treatment. Generosity through blessing. Selflessness through servitude. They grow into loving people by virtue of being loved first. I take that challenge pretty seriously.

We took Luke to school then took our sweet time getting them to class. We diverted to the donut shop so we could spoil their classmates. Then back home to look at baby books, and the morning ritual of straightening their hair with a flat iron. They already have straight hair? I don’t get it, but okay. I kissed their flat haired heads and sent them on their merry way to school. I had a few hours until I was due to bring the birthday duo their lunch, another tradition.

This was my time. My ritual. A birthday run.

I took stock, noting the mile marker, the final year before my nest is officially full of teenagers. The girls asked me this morning, likely because I was pining over their baby books, if I would trade 12 to go back to 2. I had to think about that. I wasn’t sure if that deal included me being 32 again? (Ha, actually, I might trade my skin -but not the person in it.)

“No.” I told them. “No way. I’d want more time with you, but I love who you are today even more than ten years more. And I want to go forward with you, not back. It’s too exciting.”

They liked that.

To be honest I get tired of people making catty remarks about teenagers. It’s the adolescent equivalent of the remark I could not stand many years ago, “Oh my. You certainly have your hands full,” spoken with a pity face. I could never tell if those people hated small children or if I was just a total floundering train wreck?

I know teenagers are difficult. I was one, for Pete’s sake (Ethel’s sake really, God bless my mom). I know they can be moody, petulant, snarky, tired, evasive, difficult, and prone to inexplicable, massive meltdowns - testing limits and patience all around. I know they sneak out, sneak in, try things that don’t need trying, and question your authority while you are questioning your sanity. I know that someday soon I will experience wonder-twin-power-activate-PMS, and that it could one day be Clash of the Titans with pre-menopausal mama. (Maybe we will pitch the Red Tent on Dad’s lawn?)

But you see, I want it all. And you don’t get the Relationship without the Real. Just like holding and soothing a screaming, flailing, fighting, snot-bubbling toddler when what you really want to do is run to a bubble bath with a bottle of wine and a straw and lock the bathroom door - hanging in there with the mess, with the mood, and with the mayhem is what ultimately earns the sacred weight of the sleeping sweetheart on your lap.

It’s the miles together – the present parenting that yields a future friendship.

I think teenagers are incredibly interesting, constantly changing and growing in every way, often prematurely wise, and best of all, I think they are hilarious. At least my kids are. Or I think they are. Or I should have had a better filter all these years, oh well. They teach me things all the time, because they have earned the right to say it to me like they think it is. And I have earned that right with them.

It reminds me of why some of the best conversations and ultimately the best relationships unfold while running, because you are looking forward in the same direction.